Alan Wells

was a hero of mine when I was younger,

when I first realised

what the Olympics meant,

what it could inspire,

what it could be

if not allowed to be dominated

by politics and cheats

or death’s unfavourable hand;

the dip

of the head at the line,

something I loved.

Nearly forty years on,

past the excuse of the biggest cheat

of them all, an athlete that destroyed

my faith, past vainglorious,

past deception and onto spectacle,

onto breathing legend and admiration